


The Life And Times Of Tim Pendleton

by TheFamousFireLadyM



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Robot/Human Relationships, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFamousFireLadyM/pseuds/TheFamousFireLadyM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My SS/Nick Valentine<br/>horribly indulgent <br/>Tim Pendleton has many issues. Wanting to sleep with a robot, is just one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tim gave him a terse little grin, the scars at the corners of his lips growing taut as the skin was pulled tighter. “You really want to stick with a guy like me?”

“Birds of a feather, and all that.” Nick lit his cigarette, talking around it with a practiced ease. “In this case it would have to be–”

“Monsters?” Tim offered, the smile still lingering painfully.

Nick stopped, looking the sole survivor’s way with a slow dawning of concern. It didn’t show on his face. “Is that how you think of yourself?”

“That’s what everyone sees.” Tim looked down at his hands, noting the recent calluses of swinging the tire iron he picked up outside Sanctuary. Outside his old home.

He tilted his head up, to get a better look at him. The sole survivor didn’t meet his gaze. Tim’s fingers twitched and he grasped at the ring on the chain around his grimy neck.

“Can I bum a cigarette off of you?”

Nick took a glance down at the burning butt in his hand, smoke rising up past him, liquid in the dusky glow. “Unfortunately, this is my last one until we find some more.”

“A shame.” He leaned back, stretching his weary muscles. There was a melancholy air about the sole survivor, Nick could just tell. “Coulda really used one.”

Nick studied him for a moment, eyes flicking minutely as he followed each of Tim’s movements. “C’mere.”

“What?” Tim caught his gaze and held it, like a deer in headlights. Nick crooked his finger his way and gestured for him to stand up.

“Did you ever smoke before the war?” Nick watched him approach, still monitoring his every move.

“Nora was the big smoker. I, I only did it socially. Or when I was stressed.” Tim was expecting him to share the remnants of the cigarette, just to fork it over without a second thought. Their closeness wasn’t unexpected, given how long they had been traveling together, but it still came as a shock to the sole survivor. Especially when Nick took a long drag of the cigarette and lifted his chin with his other hand, his synthetic fingertips warm to the touch on his face.

A trace of smoke escaped Nick’s lips, curling upward lavisciously. The scent took him back. Menthols. Like Nora.

Tim allowed him to draw his face closer, eyelids fluttering when he leaned in. The synth’s lips were warm, but not warm enough to pass off the fact that he wasn’t human.

He exhaled, and Tim’s mouth met his, sealing off any smoke that escaped. A tendril leaked from his throat, coiling above their heads.

“Mm,” Nick was hauled closer, Tim’s fingers grasping at his shoulders as if he needed the contact to live. His tongue met no resistance as it slipped into Nick’s mouth, meeting his own synthetic tongue halfway. The cigarette found its way to the ground, the ashes crushed underfoot and scattering, as Nick’s metal hand threaded through Tim’s dark hair, the few grays he had catching the light the way Nick’s hand did.

He tasted like oil and plastic.

Tim’s deft fingers crept into his coat, stopping short of where Nick’s collarbone would be, metal jutting from under the synthetic skin.

Nick was the one to pull back first; he was sure Tim needed to breathe sooner or later. His eyes flickered up and down the sight of the sole survivor, still flushed with need. Tim’s eyes were half lidded, though whether that was the nicotine or the obvious blood rushing south, Nick wasn’t sure.

“Thank you.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was late when they got back to Diamond City. Nick put a hand on the sole survivor’s shoulder, squeezing in a way Tim was sure was supposed to be reassuring. It wasn’t. The synth’s touch made his chest feel tight in a way he didn’t like.

“You look like you need some time alone.” They had stopped outside Home Plate and Nick opened the door; the dark interior was foreboding despite the light shining in from the city itself.

Tim didn’t turn toward him, instead staring dead ahead.

Nick released the doorknob, fingers sliding up the door.

“I don’t know if I can keep traveling with you, Nick.” He ultimately spoke aloud, unable to bring himself to meet the detective’s glowing eyes.

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but you know what’s best, after all.” Nick lowered his gaze. He could hear the ache in Tim’s voice and wondered if he made the right decision back there. Tim had quickly reciprocated, so it wasn’t wholly unwanted. The problem lay with himself then. It was a thought he suppressed quickly.

Tim pressed his lips together tight, giving him another pained smile. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“You know where to find me.” Nick tapped the rim of his fedora with a fingertip. “I’m sure Ellie will be relieved to know I’m safe and sound.”

The smile shrank, and Tim held his tongue. “Goodnight, Nick.”

“Night, kid. Take care of yourself.”

The door closed behind him without another word. Nick paused, before he took a step back. One hand tucked into his pocket and retrieved a crushed cigarette pack. He tipped one out, and lifted a lit match to the tip. When it caught, he shook the match. Smoke billowed forth, out, trailing upward.

Tim sank down into a nearby chair, hands pressed to his face. He could still smell the cigarette smoke, it soaked into his clothes and his hair. Closing his eyes, the sole survivor pressed his fingers to his lips. Nick had held him close, in a way he never thought he would experience again. It was mere seconds before the sole survivor snaked a hand down, undoing his pants without even thinking about it. It had been a while since he’d done anything like this. Over two hundred years. That still blew his mind.

Tim groaned under his breath, leaning back in the chair. His hair had come loose from the ponytail, falling to just under his chin. His whole body ached for contact; Nick had shaken something free from deep inside him.

The sole survivor started with a few tentative strokes, eyes fluttering closed. He moaned louder, confident in the fact that no one would hear him. Nick was first and foremost on his mind. He hadn’t pulled back in disgust, hadn’t shied away from the touch of their mouths.

In a way, Tim had half hoped against hope it wasn’t because he was obviously so needy. His heart sank when he thought about it. Nick had kissed him, but he knew. The synth wasn’t capable of taking it further.

The door clicked closed with a soft creak, but the sole survivor hadn’t noticed.

His hand had quickened, and his hips had started to move to meet the touch. Tim bowed his head, thinking of how it would feel if Nick was there. Tim’s thumb swiped at the tip of his cock, and he imagined it was the synth’s tongue. His mouth went slack, breathing picking up as he rocked his hips faster. Nick would groan under his breath, mouth hot from the machinery contained in his core. Tim would grab hold of his shoulders, squeezing, as his silver tongue would work him over, wring him out until he was a sobbing mess.

“Fuck, Nick..-!!” He squeezed his hand tighter, trembling as he came. His voice echoed in the silence of his home.

When he found the strength to open his eyes again, he found himself face to face with the detective.

“ _Kid_.” Nick breathed, taking in the sight of him splayed the way he was.


End file.
